


Forthcoming

by Calamitous99



Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms, Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera - Gaston Leroux, Phantom of the Opera - Lloyd Webber
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Drabble, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-18 08:21:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29486691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Calamitous99/pseuds/Calamitous99
Summary: The four times Erik has helped Christine, and the one time she helped him.|| New to writing for POTO.This is my reimagination of the POTO characters, so they aren't exactly one version or the other. I took heavy inspiration from MazM and ALW, but I tried to leave things loosely so that readers can decide what versions of the characters they would like to imagine.Also, light references to LND toward the end, but can be easily disregarded.
Relationships: Christine Daaé/Erik | Phantom of the Opera
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	Forthcoming

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger Warnings: Murders, an attempt of rape (Not by Erik), and... LND's "Beneath A Moonless Sky"?
> 
> Also, perhaps Erik is slightly out-of-character if you prefer one version over another. I loved his personality in the 1990s show, so I adapted some of the humor of it in this fic. I also loved his design from the MazM artworks. In my mind, he looks similar to that (which is why I have written him with full-masks), but I tried to leave everything loose enough for everyone to imagine whatever they wish.

**1.**

It wasn’t Christine’s fault. It was Erik’s. He had lost time while they were singing, and it became far too dark. The little girl was too frightful to venture into the void, and she clung to her dress and cried to him.

“Please, don’t leave me alone, Angel of Music,” she sobbed. Erik didn’t have the heart to disregard her. He opened a hidden passage near the entrance o the ‘Angel Room’ and slipped into the darkness with a sigh. He was wearing black, and she was too little to notice the fluttering in the dark.

“Child,” Erik hummed. She was still crying, and he comforted her with her voice. “Fear not. Your Angel will always be with you. Follow my voice. I’ll lead you back to your room.”

He sang her a soft melody. Quiet enough to be heard but to not interrupt anyone else who was sleeping. The little girl’s sobs ebbed, and she followed the sound of his voice--all too trusting of him. 

Yet, he couldn’t find himself ridiculing her at this moment. She was scared, and he couldn’t feel calm.

He sang as he maintained their distance. Not too far, but also not too close. Erik kept to the shadows, and his golden eyes glanced over to her every so often to make sure she had kept up. Her little candle fluttered in the darkness as she tiptoed. When he made it to the girl’s dormitory, he slipped behind a sliding wall entrance and ebbed his voice into silence. He couldn’t see the little girl anymore, but he heard her.

“Thank you, Angel,” Little Christine whispered into the darkness, then she blew out her candle and entered the room.

Erik blinked, unfamiliar with the sense of being thanked. A frown creased his uneven lips, and he rose a brow.

There was no need to offer a ‘your welcome.’ She was already asleep, perhaps. With that thought, the young man turned his heel and walked into the darkness.

**2.**

“Oh! Christine!” Meg’s voice rang through the more secluded part of the opera house. And for a good reason.

Little, rebellious Christine. She had felt too adventurous that morning and. That it had become nighttime, she had started climbing the ropes. She laughed, though, thinking it all good fun.

“What’s the problem, Meg?” She said devilishly, a smirk on her face.

It wasn’t Meg who supplied the problem, although Erik said it in his head, _Foolish girl! You could lose your grip and fall!!_

“You’re going too high!” Meg said uselessly. Christine only giggled before tracking up the final few inches on the rope. Erik had to pinch his thigh to keep from making any noise.

She was closer to him than she would have thought, but up in these parts, it was too dark for her to see him. After all, he did wear black.

Christine craned her neck to look up at the stained glass window, which allowed the moonlight to flutter in. She gave a beautiful smile, and Erik found himself powerless to get angry at her for sneaking out of bed to explore.

“So beautiful,” she whispered, talking about the glass.

 _Well, thank you_ , Erik replied humorously in his thoughts. _It took a while to get the right picture, but I’m glad someone appreciates it._

Then he saw her step forward where the wooden beam thinned. In a panic, he opened his mouth.

“Child, watch where you step,” he warned in a voice barely above a whisper. Christine stepped back, her eyes glancing down to her footing. She let out a nervous sigh, then lifted her head to look around for the source of the voice. Yet, Erik had already moved from his spot. He climbed higher, silent like a cat, until he was nearly reaching the ceiling of the building.

Feeling that he was a good enough distance from her, Erik couldn’t help but say to her, “My child, aren’t you supposed to be sleeping?”

“Oh!” she recognized his voice and said to the air, “Angel, I’m sorry! Please don’t tell God.”

Erik chuckled, his chest fluttering at her reaction. Could a person be any more enamoring? He teased, “Oh, Child, you’re lucky He is busy at the moment. If you head down and slip into bed, I shall keep this a secret between us.”

“Oh, Angel, thank you!” She laughed. Erik smiled beneath his mask.

“Ah, dear, please mind your step as you go.”

“I will! Good night, Angel!” She descended. Christine and Meg chatted in a hushed whisper as they went. Erik laughed.

The next day, Madame Giry fussed about Christine and Meg sleeping in just by a bit while the ballerinas were doing their drills.

“How could they! They know that they have to practice so early! They were late by fifteen minutes!”

Charles chuckled at the woman’s rage, “Oh, please, Madame Giry. It was only fifteen minutes.”

“They shall be punished! Fifteen minutes after--”

Erik finally spoke from his spot the shadows above the two, “Oh, won’t you be merciful, Madame.” His voice sounded perhaps too sweet, for the woman cringed and Charles had to bite his knuckles to keep from laughing. Erik was grinning against his half-mask. “Ah, if it pleases you, I shall take their fifteen-minute punishment.” 

“You!?” The woman screeched as she turned her face up in horror. Erik had bit his lip to keep his laughter in his throat. “I can’t see _you_ doing ballerina dances for the life of me!”

“Ah, perhaps this will be a great opportunity for both of us. Here, let me come down.”

“God, no! Erik, stop joking! Fine, I’ll overlook it this one time!”

“Haha!”

**3.**

Christine’s skills were dragging, Erik thought as he watched his student from the spot above the theater. The ladies were doing dance rehearsals, and Madame Giry had been too focused on her strive for perfection. Then again, it wasn’t too noticeable. Christine was still very elegant, yet it wasn’t the best that she could achieve. He’s seen the girl when she was at her peak performance. It was far more exquisite than this.

When the ladies were all dismissed from their practice, Erik retreated into the Opera House’s inner walls. He constructed the entire building, after all. He scaled down the building’s inner workings, perhaps a bit too rushed. When he reached the ‘Angel Room’ that Christine visited nightly, he peeked through the mirror below him, which gave him an overview of the room. She hadn’t appeared until perhaps five minutes later. Erik stopped his nervous pacing when the door faintly creaked open. He leaned over the two-way glass mirror, watching her light a candle for her father. Then she coughed into her palm.

Erik’s eyes widened slightly. 

“Christine,” He softly said, the acoustics of the room making his voice sound more amplified. Her head perked at the sound. His expertly trained voice betrayed his worry as he spoke, “Child, what is the matter? Are you in fair health?”

Christine’s beautiful lips let out a peal of small laughter, and she answered, “Oh, Angel of Music, it’s just a small cough.”

Erik frowned, “For how long have you been sick, child?”

“Only two days, Angel,” she coughed again before placing her hands together in prayer. He was silent as she gave her prayer, then hastily left with “I’m sorry, Angel of Music. I will return tonight for our lessons!”

Erik frowned as she left, perhaps to prevent getting yelled at by her friend for sneaking off. He stood in the area for a moment before heading off to his lair.

The next day, Christine was given a cup of tea by Madame Giry before breakfast.

“He tells me that you should drink this,” Madame Giry said as she offered the teacup to Christine. Christine was thirsty, and she graciously took sips from the cup--the warm liquid soothing her throat. A smile fluttered across her rose-petal lips.

“You will be taking this every morning for a week,” Madame Giry gave a stiff smile before walking off.

During the week, Christine’s coughing subsided and soon she was at her peak again. Erik let out a sigh of relief.

**4.**

Christine was outside when the incident happened. Erik usually dispised the surface and all of their doings, but today was one day where he felt a remarkable sense of overprotectiveness for his disciple. He had seen one of the men from the opera house get handsy with the ladies, and he was distressed when he realized that his little Daaé had been followed by this drunk pervert for half a day already. If pulling out his hair was not so painful, Erik would have been ripping handful after handful of the brittle, black locks.

So close to watch it happening but unable to interfere due to his secrecy in the opera house.

When she stepped out for a midnight stroll, the pervert had followed her. Against his hermit lifestyle, he donned his blackest clothes, the darkest full-face mask. He completed his look with a long cape and a top hat, and stepped out into the cold, moonless night.

He kept his distance, walking in the shadows across the empty streets. His golden eyes carefully steady on watching the man that followed behind his Christine. It wasn’t too long into the walk when Christine was aware of the man following her. Her casual strides and relax posture morphed to become more on-guard and tentative. Occasionally, she took a shy glance behind her and held her coat closer to her chest, then picked up her pace.

In the empty night, she made a wrong turn into an alleyway. Perhaps she thought it could be a shortcut to backtrack to the opera house, but it only led to a gated dead end. The perverted man rushed in--and Erik ran for them.

“Little pretty!” the man’s voice was laced heavily with lust, and Christine’s mouse-like shriek sounded when heavy hands grasped her wrist.

“Let me go!” She was terrified. Then a rattle of the gate as Christine was rough pushed against the metal. Her head hit it hard, and she groaned in pain.

Erik didn’t think as his gloved hands grasped the man’s head from behind. His powerful grip dragged the heavy man off of the woman. In a silent, terrifying rage, Erik slammed the man’s head against the brick wall next to them. He didn’t hear the sound of the man’s skull splitting, and he couldn’t see anything but a hot red. He didn’t even realize that the man had gone limp until the third time that he slammed the man against the wall.

His steady hands released the body, and it sagged to the floor. Erik stood mutely over the man’s body for a moment to control his breathing, then glanced over to where Christine was.

She was also on the floor, leaning against the metal gate. Her eyes closed, and her body far too relaxed for Erik’s liking.

He ignored the dead body and walked over to look over his angel.

The first thing he checked was her head. She hit the gate pretty hard, and he worried that the impact caused her to bleed. He snaked his hand under her dark-golden locks and felt around a little bit. He pulled away after not feeling bumps or the like against her skull and examined his leather gloves. His golden eyes adapted too well in the darkness. Erik let out a held breath when he didn’t spot any sign of wetness.

Unconscious. The man had knocked her head, and she slipped into unconsciousness. Not death.

Erik felt grateful for his strange protectiveness over the little woman. Perhaps it was a regular thing. After all, he is her teacher--and that in itself is like parenting. Although he was upset that she was hurt, it was a gracious thing that nothing else happened.

His hands swiftly unbuckled the cape around his shoulders. He wrapped it around Christine as an extra layer against the coldness of the night. And himself.

Erik gathered his sleeping Christine into his arms and walked back to the opera house. He entered through a secret entrance at the side, his movements silent and unencumbered by her weight. Although Erik had to be more careful when stepping on the ropes, he was trained not to lose his balance or feel uncertain about his trip to her dressing room. Eventually, he made it to familiar hallways and opened the mirror. When he stepped into the room, he let out another sigh and felt his hot breath against his face--trapped by his mask.

Erik gingerly placed Christine onto the couch, making sure her body was comfortable before turning his heel to face the mirror. It was at this moment when the door opened. 

“Erik?” Madame Giry rose a brow as she stepped in. Her eyes glanced at Christine, wrapped in the black cloak, which now served as a blanket.

Erik turned to the woman, his demeanor imposing in the darkness of the room. The only thing that glowed with the same intensity of a flame was his angry, golden eyes.

“A man died today,” he seethed. Madame Giry’s questioning expression fell as she listened to the simmering anger in his deep, magnetic voice. “If you value the lives of those under this House, you’ll see to it that men do not force themselves on unwilling women.”

“Erik, how am I supposed to--”

“You better,” he snapped. “If I see another man try to ravish Christine again, there will be more than one head that hands from a rope!”

In his blind anger, his hand found the hidden switch that opened the mirror-door and stepped through. He forgot to retrieve his cloak from Christine’s sleeping body.

The next day, his angel was in the ‘Angel Room’, a small smile on her face as her beautiful fingers stroked the velvet, black cloth.

“Someone came to save me last night, Angel,” she said in a soft, dreamy voice. Any anger Erik might have felt at the resurgence of the memory had died before they were conceived.

“So it would seem,” he replied to her in the same softness, his heart weak at her adoring expression. 

“Madame Giry said that it might have been someone sent by you, Angel.”

“...” 

“Thank you, for sending that person to save me.”

Erik didn’t know if he should laugh or cry.

**5.**

Erik ran in the darkness, the clamor of police far behind him but not far enough to feel comfortable. After all, he had no home to go to anymore--not after the opera house caught fire and the mob swarmed his lair. He kept himself covered up, wearing black as usual. Getting chased by the police or someone from the mob was an on-and-off thing for the past few weeks. Especially when he stubbornly tried to return to his home in hopes to salvage some of his music and items. Just ghosting around the Opera house was risky. 

He turned the corner, and to his dismay, a parked cab’s door opened some way down the sidewalk he was running. Erik came to a screeching halt, like a deer caught in headlights.

_Shit, shit, shit…!_

“Come here!” a feminine voice called out, poking her veiled head out to look directly at him. Erik was skeptical but didn’t find it in himself to ask questions right now. After all, his main concern was hiding away until the police flew over him.

Erik quickly jumped into the cab, and the woman barked orders for the driver to go. The coach moved with the gentle sound of the reigns snapping.

Perhaps more secure than he had been since he was forced out of his comfortable cave below the opera house, Erik breathed. The tautness in his muscles slipped away as he allowed himself to relax, eyes fluttering close behind the full-face porcelain mask. It was the only thing he managed to save from the opera house aside from the clothes on his body.

The veiled woman looked him over before taking off her ridiculous hat and placing it on her lap. With the veil gone, when Erik looked over to his unexpected savior, his mouth went dry.

Beautiful, dark blonde lock and unmatched blue eyes. Beautiful, just far too lovely.

“Ch-Christine…” he wheezed uselessly.

“That was close,” She sighed, her eyes closing as she fixed the little trinkets on her hat. Christine was sitting proper and dressed in white. Too abrasive for a nighttime savior, but, God, she looked so beautiful. Erik must have been staring for too long. Her soft cheeks grew rosy, and she said strictly, “Where are you going? Where should we drop you off?”

Her cold tone clicked Erik back into reality. Right. She was engaged. She’s to be married off soon, so what excuse did he have to gawk at another man’s wife? That was dishonorable.

Clearing his throat, Erik replied sarcastically, “Anywhere. I don’t have a specific place to go.”

“Don’t have anywhere to go?” Christine chastised him with a slight snarl on her lips. With all that has happened between them, he didn’t feel hurt at her anger towards him. “So, you’re a stray cat now, Phantom?”

“Yes,” his innate reaction to jest overtook any sense of seriousness. Tilting his head over to her, he spoke melodiously. “Dear Christine, would it be too troublesome for you to take in this poor, freakishly ugly, old cat into your home, _meow_?”

The woman rolled her eyes. Erik laughed bitterly, mocking himself a little.

The vehicle rolled for several long moments until Erik ordered for a stop once he saw familiar landmarks. They climbed out, and she tipped the driver a fair amount to keep his silence. Christine and Erik walked into the city’s darkness; the streets empty at this late hour.

Erik remained quiet, his eyes wandering up to the moonless, night sky. He was too… what’s the word for it… scared? Nonsense. He was never scared. He couldn’t afford to be when he was the Opera Ghost. Then what’s the ridiculous, overwhelming sense?? Dread? Yes, Dread. He was dreading this moment far too much to break the silence. He didn’t even deserve to be walking beside such a beauty.

Christine was the first to talk, “It’s been about a week and a half, no?” 

“Hm,” Erik hummed, not sure how to say anything else.

“A lot has happened.” 

“Hm.” 

“Are you sure you don’t have anywhere to go?” 

“Hm...Hm?” The man lazily trailed his eyes to the angelic woman; his brow rose behind the mask. He had expected her to remain angry at him, but she seemed shy. Her fingers were fiddling with the hat as she walked beside him. Erik blinked and replied, “Well… I have places, but I can’t trust anyone with their location, seeing how I am a wanted man.”

“Oh.” 

“Besides, I liked the opera house,” He mused under his breath. After all, he has so many memories. Some fond, some not so pleasing… but all of them better than the rest of his life. He stuffed his hands in his pockets. It’s best to try and put all of that behind him, no matter how hard that is becoming. 

After a breath or two, Christine grasped Erik’s sleeve and pulled him. He gave a disgraceful sound as he was tugged, the world seeming to narrow around him. Erik found himself cautiously pushed against the wall. He frowned, yellow eyes glancing down to the hand placed against his chest.

“Christine…?”

Her other hand came to his mask, and he froze. He slowly trailed his eyes to her own.

She had a look of determination on her face as she spoke, “May I…?”

He couldn’t speak, but he didn’t raise a protest when she lifted his mask from his face. His heart raced as she removed his only sense of security. He could have lashed out and snatched it back, but he remained mute.

Christine looked hard at his face, but he knew that she had a hard time seeing his horror in the darkness of the alley. She stepped closer and closer... 

Erik felt soft lips against his bloated, deformed ones. With a broken groan, he threw rationality out the window as he returned her kiss. It was as if he was starving, and she bestowed upon him a warm meal. They found themselves groping at each other as their tongue tangled and explored. His hand grasped at her hips and pulled her closer. He moaned when Christine became flushed against his body.

When she pawed at his clothes, he pulled away and breathed against her wet lips, “Wait…” In some far part of his brain, he knew he had to stop. He couldn’t afford to taint her anymore with his ugliness--especially when she had to marry another man. 

Christine didn’t give him a chance to voice his concerns. Her lips chased his, and she whined too sweetly, “No. I can’t… let me be with you tonight.”

God, she was going to end him.

The _boy_ was out of sight, out of mind for the night, and, _fuck_ , that was all he needed to know.

Erik brutishly devoured her lips. His hand roamed her body shamelessly, and he felt her tremble under his touches. He was ecstatic, excited, aroused at the thought of her wanting to be with him. When she rubbed her thigh against his hardening crotch, his throat gave a strangled groan.

“Ah… Christine,” He moaned, pulling his lips away to kiss her cheeks as he whispered hotly, “A change of scene is an order if we are going to do this.”

She dreamily nodded in his arms, and he couldn’t help the grin that spread across his mismatched lips. He reached to take his mask from her hands and carefully placed it back to its rightful place. Christine had long abandoned her hat somewhere. Swiftly, he grasped her hand and led her down to his temporary, well-hidden den below ground.

As the morning approached, however, he found himself unable to stay by her side. She laid naked, in a deep sleep beside his own scarred and ugly body. He trailed his fingers up and down her spine as he thought. 

Indeed, she’ll regret her decision when she woke. Erik had the joy of taking her three times in a single night. He prepared her well enough to prevent too much harm. Not enough men had the amount of patience needed to make sure their women didn’t bleed during bedding. Erik was confident that when the boy had his chance at her incredible body, he wouldn’t know that she had experienced the pleasure in the arms of another man.

Erik sighed and pulled himself from the bed. He dressed appropriately and left the secret lair. 

He had to leave. He couldn’t bear to see Christine's horror when she realized that she slept with a monster. And he didn’t want to be blamed for taking her against better judgment. Her second--third? Fourth??--rejection of him would shatter him, and he didn’t know if he could survive if he heard the accusing, harmful words.

In midday, he steeled his resolve as he snuck onto a boat headed for some land across the ocean. He couldn’t turn back, and he couldn’t return. A place he called ‘home’ was now too far from him, and he had to go. As the vessel pulled away from the dock, Erik closed his eyes, silently humming a sad melody.

It was time for him to move on.


End file.
